And Baby Makes Three
by XbehindtheseaX
Summary: Some little stories about various pairings and their OC children. Chapter 12: Vati Prussia. 'Nuff said.
1. Germany and Italy

_This is going to be a series of oneshots, with various pairings and their children. There's some implied mpreg, so if you hate it (although I love it!) just don't read. Or assume all Hetalia-beings just magically appear. Whateva._

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Germany opened the front door quietly, knowing at this time of day Italians would be taking their siestas. He'd learned it was impossible to take him to the grocery store; that short attention span and tendency to make a scene just did not mesh well with shopping.

He peeked into the front room to find exactly what he'd been expecting: a mass of breathing blankets on the couch with two hair curls protruding from the top. After dropping the bags of groceries on the counter, he went a little closer and pulled back the covers to reveal the two sleeping faces. The first frowned subconsciously at having the warm blankets pulled away, while the smaller burrowed into the shirt it was clinging to.

He smiled slightly, leaning down to kiss each of their foreheads before replacing the covers. Even once they were covered, he could still see their hair spilling unto the pillow. Locks of copper mingled with the German's own blonde, although they were not from his head. The long strands led to the scalp of a siesta-ing little girl.

Germany tried not to make a sound as he stepped away, withdrawing to his office. Once inside, he began with his normal routine of paperwork and generally boring activities. It was silent except for the scratch of his pen, so he was quite surprised when he felt his knee being yanked at.

"Vati~" She seemed to be struggling to climb into his lap.

"Hmm, Fiorella?" He helped her up, laying his pen down as she shifted to sit.

"Papá's not waking up. Is he dead?" She asked.

He thought of how impossible the Italian was to wake, then shook his head.

"Oh." She laid her hands on top of his. "How was the store?"

He shrugged. "The cashier was Spanish, and the line was long. I'm guessing your day was better than mine."

"Well, Papá and I blew bubbles outside, then we colored, and then he made lunch. Then we fell asleep."

"What did you have for lunch?" He asked absent-mindedly. He was terrible at conversation with children.

She looked up at him and smiled. "Pasta, of course!"

He chuckled. "Of course."

She picked up his hands and sized them against her own. "Your hands are bigger than mine, Vati. That's not fair! Will my hands be this big someday?"

"Maybe."

"Good. I want to be just like you and Papá when I grow up."

That was quite an amusing idea to him. It would be an impossible feat to be just like both of them, considering how they were nearly opposite in nearly everything. "But why?"

"Because you two are a perfect Vati and Papá."

"Oh. We aren't really per-"

She interrupted him by kissing his cheek and snuggling to his chest. "Ich liebe dich, Vati. You are perfect."

"Th-thank you." He smoothed her hair, rather unsure of how to respond. Where were the parenting manuals when he needed them?

The sweet moment of peace was interrupted when a high pitched scream pierced the house.

"GERMANY! GERMANY! SHE'S GONE! FIORELLA'S GONE!" The frantic scrambles and opening of cabinets could be heard from across the house.

The little girl began to laugh uncontrollably.

"Silly Papá! I'm in here!"

He entered quickly. "Oh! Good! I thought that a scary kidnapper lured you away with pasta!"

"That's sounds like something that would happen to you, Italy." Germany said, perfectly straight-faced.

She giggled even harder.

"Well, I'm making some pasta!" He exclaimed. "Want to help me?" He reached out a hand to the girl, who wrapped hers around it and nodded excitedly.

"Come with us, Vati." She tugged on his sleeve as she slipped off his lap.

He blinked, but stood up.

With their daughter between them, Germany and Italy were led off to the kitchen.

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_I apologize if this was disgustingly fluffy. I loved every second of writing it._

_Like I said, this will be a series. Write me some requests for pairings you'd like to see, but I'm pretty sure that the next chapter will be Roderich/Elizaveta._

_Fiorella is an Italian name that means "little flower." Vati and Papá are German and Italian for "daddy." But I'm sure you picked that up from context._

_Also, pretty much none of their children are actually going to represent places. I'm too lazy for that. And they aren't really babies, just young children. I've always loved the idea of parent!Nations :D_

_-Lissa_


	2. Austria and Hungary

_This one's shorter than the last, and just as disgustingly fluffy…

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A small boy wandered the halls of his home. He'd just awoken, and he was unsure of the whereabouts of either of his parents. No, he knew the exact place where his father would be.

Sure enough, he was sitting at the big, glistening piano that the boy was rarely allowed to touch.

He yawned, rubbing at his freshly opened eyes. "Father?" He reluctantly interrupted the man's playing.

"What?" He was not necessarily upset, just a bit annoyed. But there was an angry bite to his tone that he hadn't intended.

And although it wasn't purposeful, the child did sense it and looked like some pitiful dog who had just lost a fight.

The Austrian sighed, bowing his head in regret of such a tiny action that seemed to affect his son so greatly. Without looking up, he waved the boy over.

The child blinked, but came quietly. He watched the man with wonder as he was lifted unto the piano player's lap. Then, as though nothing had changed, the music continued.

At first he looked up to his father's composed and unreadable face, then down to the hands that moved so fast it seemed impossible that they were actually hitting the keys. Such opposites in one man.

His eyes then wandered to the sheet music that meant nothing to him. All he could see was lines and dots. While attempting to make sense of it, he caught his glossy reflection in the piano. He almost gasped when he realized how much his reflection matched that of his father's. Except for his lack of glasses and obvious youth, he was a clone.

He stared for a while, only realizing the song had ended when he heard a question being asked to him.

"How was that?"

He couldn't find the words in his childish vocabulary, so he merely nodded.

The man's reflection in the piano smiled a bit.

"I'm glad you liked it, Frederic."

For no reason at all, the boy reached out to cautiously stroke a key. He did as though it was a well behaved animal, petting it gently and lovingly. He feared what the reaction would be, but the Austrian just nodded, encouraging him to continue.

He pressed down, delighting in the echo it made throughout the room. It didn't take long for his fingers to find a second key, and he tapped down in no order on them. The sound was rather coarse, far from professional, yet the bespectacled father smiled even larger.

"Does it sound pretty?" The boy's violet eyes glowed brightly, some strange mix of fear and happiness.

"It sounds beautiful." In a rare display of affection, he kissed the top of his son's head.

When Frederic grew tired of playing any which note his hand fell upon, he turned to the man, seriousness in his eyes, and spoke.

"Teach me." He needn't say anything else.

"I'd be honored to." Austria said simply. The boy had done what few were capable of.

He'd made his father grin.

(And from the doorway, Hungary snapped a secret picture for far more modest reasons than usual.)

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_Oh dear God. The OOCness. *twitch* I apologize, fair readers. If you want to throw a tomato at me, I wouldn't blame you._

_And I'm sorry Hungary didn't make a bigger appearance D:_

_I just love softening up the more serious characters like Germany and Austria, don't I?_

_The next chapter will hopefully be a bit more humorous and cracky =D_

_(FYI, Frederic is Chopin's first name, it just fit somehow...)_

_So, shall I continue on? The next chapter will either be US/UK, France/Canada or Greece/Japan. If you want to keep following my mind-melting fluff, I'm more than happy to write it._

_-Lissa_


	3. America and England

_Some of you may be quite disappointed, it's a US/UK fic._

_I know how much everyone _despises_ this pairing, so I'm quite sorry m'dears xD_

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"Alfred, what in the name of the Queen did you feed her?!" England rubbed circles over his daughter's pajama-clad back in a tender sort of way, swaying back and forth as he held her.

"Hamburgers."

Did he honestly have to ask?

"I like hamburgers, Mum!" The girl chimed in brightly.

"That doesn't matter, love." He shifted her to his other hip. "Your father should know better. How many did you let her have?"

"Only four." He replied simply.

"My god, are you as big of an idiot as I think you are?! No wonder she's spewing like mad!" He set the child down to sit on the bathroom counter before going off to rummage through the medicine cabinet.

"She usually eats more." America shrugged, scooping the girl up playfully. "Besides, she didn't get sick until she ate _your _cooking. Right, kiddo?"

She nodded enthusiastically and rolled back in laughter as her father began to tickle her. "Daddy! Stop it!" She giggled.

He obeyed, setting her back down on the tiled counter. "It wasn't the hamburgers that made her sick."

"Would you stop getting her all excited, she'll go and get sick all over the floor again! And of course it wasn't _my _cooking!" He poured out a small dose of strangely scented liquid into a cup and handed it to the child. "Drink that, Lucy."

She stared at it, wrinkling her nose. "How about…I don't drink it?" She attempted to hand it back.

"It will make you feel better." He sighed, running out of patience.

"But it smells bad."

America smirked, a comeback fresh on his tongue. "Can't be worse than Mom's cooking."

He received a very unpleasant slap over the head.

"Shut up, you git! You have no taste for fine food!"

"Daddy's right, Mum."

The Englishman whirled around, ready to burst a vein. But he looked upon his daughter's slight smile and bright green eyes and found himself calming -slightly.

After looking down with disgust at the medicine for several minutes, she threw back her head and downed it, gagging. "It tastes bad, too."

"Well, I'm sorry." He said tiredly. "But, you're a good girl for taking it like I told you to." He hoisted her back into his arms and started to walk to the child's room.

"Wait! What are you doing?! I thought I was better now!" She squirmed to get down. "I want to go outside and play baseball with Daddy!"

"No, you have to rest, Lucy. Do you want to get sick again?" He tried to be nice about it, but she was being so _difficult. _Was it an inherited trait from her American father?

"But it's not even dark! Please let me play, Mum." She attempted to use her powers of wide-eyed heart-melting manipulation. "Please, Mum?"

"Yeah! Please, Iggy?" He copied the move.

"My no is final." He laid her down on her bed, shuffling a few stuffed animals out of the way to make room.

"Mum~"

"Iggy~"

"No."

"But I'll be so bored! There's nothing to do!" She crossed her arms, Arthur's temper rising within her.

"Thank Mom. _I'd_ let you play baseball, Lu." America assured her, collapsing into a chair.

"Stop being such a child, Alfred!"

He leaned back, an enormous frown on his face. "How come you won't tell _her _that?"

Meanwhile, England's palm had a very nice meeting with his face. "She _is _a child."

The other nation mumbled incoherently, sounding even more childish.

"Mum, if I _have_ to stay in bed for the rest of the day…" She didn't want to give in…but… "…will you tell me a story?"

He knelt beside the bed, smiling gently. "Of course, love. What do you want to hear?"

"Will you tell me a story about the fairies?" She clutched at a stuffed unicorn. "Like, the real ones?"

"There's no such thing as fairies." America laughed, ruffling Lucy's messy head of hair.

He was instantly shot with matching pairs of venomous green eyes.

"Yes, there are, Daddy. You just can't see them like Mum and I can."

It was now time for America's palm to greet his face.

Ignoring the blind nation (of course the fairies existed!), England went off into an extravagant tale of castles in clouds and the tiny magic beings that resided there. He babbled happily, stroking the little girl's hand that he held.

She was out cold approximately three minutes into her "Mum's" story.

"You bored her to death." America chuckled as he pulled the covers over his daughter and kissed her forehead.

"Or maybe she was just exhausted from throwing up hamburgers."

"I swear; it was your cooking."

He was silenced with another slap to the head as they tip-toed out.

But as Arthur's arm dropped, another hand met his and the fingers laced together.

The American leaned into whisper something that made the Englishman's face melt into a proud smile.

"We have an awesome kid."

* * *

_This one didn't turn out as fluffy and sweet as the last ones, did it?_

_Well, I still had fun writing it, as this is like, my OTP_

_I love them :)_

_Anyways, one of my WONDERFUL reviewers mentioned that they should have twins, and I considered it…but didn't go with it._

_Another pairing shall have multiples, though. I promise._

_Not saying who…_

_And Lucy came from The Beatles song "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" xD Don't ask me why…_

_I LOVE YOU, REVIEWERS! YOU ARE ALL SO AMAZINGLY FANTASTICAL!_

_Oh, and I'm dedicating this to my dear friend who plays a banjo and lives under my bed. She loves her US/UK. You know who you are :)_

_-Lissa_


	4. Sweden and Finland

_Well, I suppose baby makes four for them._

"Su-san, does Peter seem a bit…unhappy?" Tino asked observantly, filling a glass of water.

The Swede shrugged in response.

Still, the violet-eyed nation couldn't help but watch as his oldest son dragged himself to the breakfast table as though he were to be punished.

"Good morning Papa. Good morning Mama." The usually enthusiastic child said tiredly.

"EMPIRE SEALAND~"A small voice wedged into the conversation, its owner happily jumping unto his brother's lap.

"Hey buddy, gimme five!" The elder boy smiled and raised his hand expectantly, receiving a hard slap to the palm from the other's chubbier one.

Finland nearly melted; seeing his two children getting along so well was just…so sweet!

The little boy sank down and toddled on his bare feet about the kitchen. "Mama, I'm hungry." He stared up at his mother, who swept him up and gave him a peck on the cheek.

"We're going to eat soon, _armas." _He set the boy back down so he could greet his father.

"Papa~" He tugged excitedly at the towering nation's leg.

"G' mornin', Eric." He patted the child's head lazily.

The boy quickly lost interest in his parents and returned to his sulking brother. "Empire Sealand, you look sad!"

Peter avoided the subject quite skillfully. "Want to play after breakfast?"

The toddler's grin was an obvious response.

"Okay, well get in your own chair." He picked up his brother and set him into a high chair, receiving a cheerful little hug in return.

"I love you." The boy practically sang. "You're the best big brother _ever." _He was gushing with adoration.

The other child smiled weakly before returning to his chair.

"Eric's right, Peter. You look sad." Finland said as he set some food onto the table. "Is something wrong?"

The young (and unrecognized) nation took in a breath before speaking. "Are you going to send me back to live with Jerk-England?"

"Why would we ever do that?" Tino paused.

"Because, I'm not your son."

"Course you're our son." Sweden assured him.

"But…I'm not your real son. Not like Eric." He stared down at his plate wistfully. "I wish I was. But I'm not. So now that you have him you probably want to send me back."

Worried violet eyes darted across the table and met blue. "Sealand, you don't really think that…?"

"Mama? What's a 'real son?'" The toddler asked innocently.

"There's no such thing." He said without hesitation. "You're either somebody's son or not. And you are both our sons. You're both ours…and we love you. Right Su-san?"

Sweden nodded. "Course."

"But, Mama-"

"Don't 'But Mama' me." Tino laid a warm hand on his son's shoulder. "You're just as much our son as Eric." He bent over to kiss his older child's cheek, ruffling the gold blond hair.

Sealand seemed a little more convinced as he resumed his normal habits of chattering expressively.

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Later that morning, Finland and Sweden observed the two boys building block castles.

"Hey Mama, why do I look like you and Papa, but Peter doesn't? Where did Peter come from? Where did _I _come from? Mama, where do all babies come from?"

Tino blinked, incapable of replying.

"Stork." The other nation muttered simply.

"Oh…" He rejoined his brother.

They spent a good long while watching the two boys play.

Their sons. Their real sons.

* * *

_A return to fluff (: _

_Armas: The Finnish equivalent of sweetie, honey, dear etc._

_Eric is a popular name in both Sweden and Finland, and it just seemed cute. Kawaii little Eric! You take after your mama for sure!_

_Oh, I have an announcement about this series of sickening fluff. I won't be overlapping pairings – I'm continuing with these OCs. I'm falling in love with these kids, honestly. I have more than one idea for them, so don't be surprised if Fiorella, Frederic, Lucy, __Eric or any of the rest of the OC nation kids show up more than once. And, consider this all in one universe. Don't ask why all the nations up and had kids at the same time, but I want to write these children interacting. So…yeah (:_

_I'm deciding if the next one will be Franada, Spero, or Giripan =D (I love the little pairing names. Can't you tell?)_

_Till next time, peoplez!_

_-Lissa_


	5. Russia and China

"Papa?" A little girl's voice carried across the wintery atmosphere.

The blond lifted his head to look her in the eye. "What, Tatiana?"

She giggled shyly before throwing something at him. He looked down, just in time to watch the last bits of snow fall to his feet.

"Snowballs, da? It's not very nice to throw things at Papa. I'll have to throw one back."

Her face cracked in a grin as she ran as fast as her little legs could carry her. "But you'll miss~"

He gathered snow in his hands, packing it into a tight ball. "I bet I won't~" He responded just as childishly sweet. He raised his arm, purposefully flinging the snow a good ten feet off target. "Ah, I missed. Who'll teach me to throw snowballs?"

What dark hair that had escaped from her cap bobbed as she turned her head. "I'll teach you!" She eagerly began to run back to him. "Let me show you!" Tatiana knelt, sliding some snow in her little gloved palms. She formed it into a lumpy mass. "Here." She handed him the snowball, although it seemed quite small in his large hands.

"And how do I throw?"

"Like this, aru!" She waved her hand in a throwing motion.

He repeated the action and tossed the ball several feet over the yard. "Like that?"

"Yes Papa, like that." She'd just dipped her fingers into the white to pull up more snow when she drew them back up in shock.

"What's wrong?"

Without responding, she cautiously started to dig. The Russian stared down confusedly, watching as she drew up something limp and wet. "It's a bird." She said softly. "Why isn't it moving?"

His mind caught up with his eyes quickly. He watched his daughter cradle the dead thing like it was an urgent priority. "It's…"

He paused, not quite sure of what to tell the child. When he was young, he was never shielded from such things. He was so used to the sight of death and suffering; it seemed natural. And yet…

And yet, her innocent amethyst eyes stared up at him, glistening with tears. He simply could not tell her.

"The bird is sleeping, Tatiana. Shh~" He pressed a finger to his lips. "I'll take it. Go inside with your mama."

"But we can't leave it out here. It's so cold."

"Birds are meant for outside, da?"

She pondered this before nodding. "Da." She agreed.

"So go inside."

The little girl obeyed with boots falling pronounced against the ground. She pushed open the door, China's chuckled cry of "Aiyah! You're all wet, aru!" following.

Russia ran a hand through the precipitation he knew so well. After several moments of digging, he reached the frozen earth and clawed it open. He dropped the creature inside to its shallow grave.

Once the hole was hidden and snow drift covered it, he started to approach the door. Through the window, he saw his Chinese lover unbuttoning their child's coat.

As if she felt his gaze, Tatiana's head jerked up to face him. She waved cheerily, running back to the door to greet him. China seemed exasperated, but still smiled a bit.

He laid his fingers on the door knob, thinking to himself.

"_She's so happy, so safe. Things I never was as a child."_

He entered the house, quickly attacked with a bear hug to his leg.

"_Things I shall always make sure she is."

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_Ahh! Attack of the Killer Fluff! (And OOCness, in Russia's case)_

_But I couldn't help it! Russia ISN'T EVIL, and he'd be really cute with little kids ^.^ (Umm, that...came out wrong~)_

_Hope you enjoyed it =)_

_-Lissa_


	6. Prussia

_Okay, so this isn't like all the others I've written. It's sorta angsty and is about Gilbert's crush on Elizaveta rather than them getting together and having kids…_

_This takes place when Hungary was pregnant with Frederic…so I figured it fit in enough to be added to the series._

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_So, it's true. _Gilbert thought to himself as he noted the distinct roundness of Elizaveta's stomach. _The friggin' aristocrat knocked her up._

"Do you want to come in or something?" She asked sweetly.

_God, does she glow. _"No, I just came to grant you a glimpse of my awesomeness." _AKA, what you could have had._

"Well, I'm going back inside." She began to close the door. "If you want to come in, you're welcome to."

"Won't your boyfriend be pretty pissed to come home and find me spending time with you?" He snarled. "Especially considering you're carrying his kid and all?"

"I think of you as an annoying brother and nothing more. Roderich knows this, and he won't mind it much as long as you take off your shoes."

He waltzed into the house. _Yeah, he knows you think of me like a brother. He thinks I should have disappeared the day I dissolved._ "So, do you have any idea what you guys are having?" _Not that I care, it isn't _my _kid. Although…I wish it was. _

She looked down to her midsection lovingly. "It's a boy."

"A boy, huh? Let me guess, he wants to name it after Chopin or something stupid."

She smacked the back of his head. "It isn't a stupid idea; I think it's a wonderful one. Frederic is a beautiful name."

_Figures. _He rubbed the spot where he'd been hit. "So…" He was running out of things to say. "You guys are pretty excited, huh?"

"Well, of course. What kind of a question is that?"

"Was this _planned?" _The albino smirked evilly, trying to hide the emotions rising within him.

She dealt another blow, albeit a more playful one. "Yes and no. We've always known we wanted children, but he-" Hungary patted her pregnant belly. "-just sort of showed up. But we couldn't be happier."

"He's just as happy as you?"

"Yes, Gilbert." She rolled her eyes. "He may not be as vocal as _some _of us, but he _is _capable of absolute joy."

"Are you even sure he wants to be a dad?"

"Gilbert! Yes, Roderich wants to be a father."

"But can you honestly see him as one?"

She was quiet for a moment. "Why are you asking stuff like this? If you're trying to provoke my hormonal temper, you'll regret it." Elizaveta stole to the nearest chair. "To answer your question: yes, I can see him as a father. I think he'll be a wonderful one."

"C'mon? He's cold and stoic. He has no concept of the word 'relax.' Just think of the way he acted toward Italy when you guys were taking care of him. I mean, we can't all be me, but honestly; he's about as far from an awesome dad as you could get."

"Is that what this is about?" She stood up once again. "You're jealous of Roderich…aren't you?"

The former nation didn't answer.

"Are you jealous of him because he's going to be a father…" Her gaze softened a little. "…or because he fathered _my _child?"

_The second one. The second one. The second one. Elizaveta, I've loved you so much longer than him. He doesn't even care about you as much as I do. I can give you so much more… _"I'm just trying to see how bad a pregnant woman's temper is."

She laughed a little, staring him down. "I don't believe you."

"Hey, West wants me back at the house to help him clean soon, so…"

"Since when do you listen to your brother?"

_Damn, woman. You know me so well._

"Look." She took his hands in her own. "I gave you a lot of chances; you blew them all. You don't take my breath away, you don't amaze me, and I don't love you-not like him."

_Um, harsh much? How does someone as boring as Austria take anyone's breath away? Amaze them, even? How can you love him, Elizaveta?_

"Gilbert, I do care about you. I grew up with you, no matter how much of a conceited jerk you were and are. You're a part of my history, a part of my family. You're the brother I always hated but could never stand to lose. That's it. But this kid is going to call you his uncle, and you will always be a part of me. Understand?"

_NO. _"That was about the corniest "I love somebody else" speech I've ever heard. What makes you even think I even love you? That I don't just think of you as a sister too? Maybe I'm just looking out for you like a good brother?" _At least…I can try to get away with my pride._

"Well then, we're on the same page." She stepped back and smiled, all trace of seriousness gone in a flash. "Roderich's going to be home soon, so you may want to clean up all the dirt you tracked in."

"I'd rather not." He forced himself to smirk, to act like he wasn't crying inside.

"Gilbert." She drew an all-too-familiar object from behind her. "Just because I'm pregnant doesn't mean I won't bash your head in."

"Elizaveta, don't…it could be bad for your baby." _Wow, am I actually concerned? Well, it's just as much her son as it is that stuck-up Austrian's. And she calls me conceited._

"I wasn't actually going to hit you. I figured you'd be frightened enough at the sight of it." Her sunshine grin was sarcastic.

But it was enough to make his heart skip a beat.

"You know what, I'll humor you sis. I'll clean this up because I'm just that awesome." _Because I don't want to upset you even more than I already have._

"Alright then. There's a rag in the sink. The one in the kitchen. I'm assuming you know where that is, considering how many times you've eaten Roderich out of house and home."

He laughed a little, knowing it was true.

However, when he got to the kitchen, he made a mad dash for the back door. He threw it open, running away as fast as could.

He ran not to get out of cleaning, but because he couldn't stand to let her see him cry.

* * *

_Woah, OOC much, Gil?_

_Okay. I have no idea where this came from, but it slapped me, pushed against the wall and screamed in my face:_

"_WRITE ME!"_

_So I did (:_

_Oh, and beloved reviewers, were it possible to give you all cookies; I would. So here are some imaginary cookies. You may all take one :P_

_-Lissa_


	7. Spain and Romano

"Papa, would you stop it?!" The angered little child began to swat ferociously at her father's hands.

"Oh, my baby Damita, I'm only trying to fix your pretty hair." He proved his point by gently readjusting the dark pigtails.

She slid off his lap and unto the lawn. "You're bad with hair. Stupid."

"I can only try, _querida_." He said sweetly, pulling some candy from his pocket to hand to her. "You may think I'm stupid, but I'm your papa and I love you very much."

At the sight of a sweet, she quickly scrambled back up into his lap. "I know you love me. I love you too. You're just stupid, that's all." She shrugged, cuddling against him and sucking on her candy. "You're stupid, and Mama's stupid. And I'm perfect, right?" She looked at him, the Spanish sun illuminating her tanned cheeks and long lashes.

Anyone else would have told their child something about nobody being perfect, that everyone has a fault. Not Spain, of course. "Of course you're perfect; you're my little Damita!"

She seemed satisfied, burying herself deeper into his fatherly warmth.

"How about we go find a pretty red tomato for your Mama, hmm?"

Her tired eyes slid open, and she nodded.

The Spaniard stood, his daughter safe in his arms. As he began to point out various specimens, he was turned down at every one.

"No. That's one really ugly. Stupid." She said, having moved from her father's embrace back to toddling on the ground. "Let me find one!" She ran a few feet ahead and stared at the tomato plants before her. "That one Papa! That one's the prettiest!"

"This one?" He asked before easing it off the plant.

She nodded.

"Well then," He handed it to her. "let's go give it to Mama."

She slid her little hand in his, practically dragging him. "Papa, you're so _slow~"_ She griped, her face drawn in a familiar pout. "Hurry, stupid Papa."

He did hurry, but not in time for her to decide she was better off running solo. His heart broke slightly when she ripped her hand from his, scowling over her shoulder. However; that feeling quickly morphed to fear when he saw her running much too fast down the walkway. "Damita! Be careful!"

She ignored him, little bare feet smacking into the concrete. She was almost to the door when:

"_SMACK!"_

After her fall, the child instantly began to wail and cry as though death were upon her.

Spain rushed over as quickly as humanly possible, instantly sweeping the little girl up in his arms. He didn't care that his shirt was being smeared with squashed tomato, or that he was being beat upon by the crying little thing.

"STUPID STUPID STUPID…"

"Yes, _mi bebé_, your papa is very stupid." He said soothingly, meaning every word.

"No! _I'm _stupid! I can't do anything right!" She gestured to herself, her cries growing.

"You are not stupid, Damita. Shh, shh. Calm down."

"Spain! What the hell happened, you stupid tomato…IS THAT BLOOD?!" Romano burst out of the house, concerned.

He shook his head. "Tomato."

Nevertheless, he took the girl from the other's arms. He received no better treatment from her, the same kicking and screaming applied to him.

"I can't…do anything…right!" Her breath hitched as she spoke.

Both of her parents tried desperately to calm her, but to no avail. She eventually squirmed out of their arms and back to the ground. She sat on the grass, bawling and hollering. It seemed nothing could be done to stop the noise…until she slumped over quietly.

"Damita!" They said in unison, believing the girl had cried herself to death.

However; she snored slightly, shifting in her troubled sleep

Spain sighed, once again picking up the dark-haired little child. He rocked her tenderly, not caring that she was scowling subconsciously at him.

Romano took her to carry the rest of the way. She slapped him sleepily, drooling on his shoulder.

Oh yes, their daughter was a brat.

But neither of them would ever admit that.

* * *

_Oh god, Spain. You would spoil a child rotten and then let them walk all over you, wouldn't you?_

_She'll make a fun teenager ;)_

_Querida: Spanish for darling, dear one etc._

_Damita: A girls name of Spanish origin. It means "baby girl/little lady/princess"_

_-Lissa_


	8. Greece and Japan

_Sorry it's short and I took forever :/ I've been busy._

_

* * *

_

"Look what I found, Chichi!" Another oddly shaped rock was placed in the short nation's lap.

He blinked, baffled as to why his son was so fascinated with such things. None the less, he turned it over in his hand and placed it with the rest of the various twigs, leaves and stones the child picked up while playing outside. "Thank you." By the time looked back, the softest of smiles on his face, the little body was racing across the yard.

Japan laughed, standing up from his cross-legged position on the grass and making his way over to a hammock. He let his body spill unto it slowly, careful not to disturb his sleeping Greek. However, his effort was ruined when the man stirred and tiredly wrapped warm arms around him.

"Oh! Heracles-san, did I wake you?"

"I don't mind." He mumbled into Kiku's shoulder.

They sat for this like a moment. The silence was so…comfortable to them. It was almost certain that Greece had fallen back asleep.

Then came a noise.

There was the distinct screech of a cat, then the pained cries of something else.

The crying grew louder, and it took but a moment for Japan to realize what he was hearing. He jumped off the hammock, only to realize the taller nation had already done so. Running several feet behind, worry clouded his thought.

"Luke?" He asked the crying little boy.

Instead of replying, he simply cried louder and latched on to his mother's leg.

"What happened?" Greece knelt beside him, taking the small hands in his own. "Are you hurt?" The emotion with which this was said was rather uncharacteristic for him.

…And rather appealing to Japan.

The boy nodded, turning over his wrists to reveal several red slashes across his Mediterranean complexion. They dug, red and violent against the young softness of his skin. "I tried to hug a kitty." He looked to his parents with widened brown eyes.

"Oh, Luke-chan." Japan bent down. "Are you alright besides that?"

He nodded once again, wiping at fat tears. "I just wanted to give it a hug~" The boy reached up to his parents in non-verbal command to be held.

Japan complied, picking the child up to curl against his chest.

The three made their way back to the hammock, sleepy boy between them. Their son had been blessed (or cursed, depending on how you look at it) with the amazing ability/obligation to sleep frequently at odd intervals, although less so than the Greek. It wasn't long until he was napping peacefully.

Japan looked down at his son, whose dark lashes laid heavily on his lower lids. He smiled as the boy stirred, dark waves of hair moving with him.

Greece said nothing, although he rarely did. Japan was sure he'd once again fallen asleep.

"Kiku." He said simply, looking at their child.

"Hmm?"

He ran his fingers over the scratches on Luke's arm. "I didn't know it was possible to be so angry with a cat."

The other smiled slightly, leaning back to lie beside him. "Oh?"

The boy woke briefly, eyes cracking open for a moment before sleepily sliding shut again.

"I want to know which one attacked him."

Japan nodded. "What will you do?"

He looked down at his child, then back up to his lover. "Declaw it."

Such an action was completely unheard of, Japan almost gasped. "Goodness, Heracles-san."

He shrugged off the comment and turned to kiss the other's forehead. He lazily patted the sleeping child's head and rested with his chin on Japan's shoulder.

"Nothing hurts my son and gets away with it."

* * *

_Oh, you know they'd make the most beautiful children ever. EVER._

_Chichi is the Japanese version of Daddy and Luke is a Greek name, by the way._

_Okay, is it just me, or do these keep getting shorter? And crappier? I'm really sorry this one sucked, but I have more of a plan for the next one. You might get some Franada. Or maybe some more Fiorella. It depends on how I feel next time I get a chance to write~_

_I can assure you of one thing: I have many ideas and this is gonna keep goin'._

_-Lissa_


	9. France and Canada

_A fail attempt at Franada humor. This was originally a lot sweeter and fluffier, but somehow it all ended in lovable Papa!France trying to get in the pants of stressed out Daddy!Canada. And they have triplets (:_

_Enjoy~_

_

* * *

_

"Jacques! Don't swing that around! We don't want you to poke anybody's eye out, eh?" Canada wrestled the plastic sword from the boy's hands. "Now; run along and play."

"But, Daddy~"

"Why won't you just listen to him, _mon cher_?" France rested his head in his hand while leaning against a wall. "You're a young Frenchman, not a young Englishman. You shouldn't behave like this."

He continued to pout. "I was just playing! I'm a soldier, Papa! I need a sword!"

"Now, why would you need a sword when you have such good looks? You get them from me, of course." He gave a wink and ruffled the boy's blond hair.

"I think he's ugly~" A little girl appeared in the doorway, leading another child behind her.

"Oh, don't say that, Jovianne." Canada said softly.

"You're uglier!" Jacques stuck his tongue out. "Jules, aren't I right?"

"I…uh…" The timid child spoke quietly from behind his sister.

"I'm your older brother, you should agree with me!" He seemed horribly offended, so he abandoned his family and stormed away to a corner of the living room.

Jules sighed, mumbling under his breath. "Only by a few minutes~"

"Need I remind you, my sweet _princesse_ Jovianne is older than the both of you." France chuckled when his eldest son grew red-faced.

"Only by a few minutes!" He insisted.

"'Only a few minutes' doesn't matter when it makes you younger, but if it makes you older, it's somehow more important, eh?"

For a second, he reddened so much, his parents were quite sure he'd scream. But he suddenly let out a gasp and paled again. "Well, I'm still the oldest brother." He turned and marched out the door to the yard.

"Why don't you join him?" French eyes lovingly wandered to the pair of angelic faces that stared up at him.

Jovianne nodded and promptly began to shove her shyer sibling outside.

"I swear Francis, they're killing me." Canada sighed and fell into a chair. "It never stops. They aren't bad kids, they're just so…_wild._"

Being so opportunistic, France slipped his arms around the younger nation. "Oh, but you make such a _wonderful_ mother." He gushed, placing a kiss on the young man's collarbone.

A light blush dusted the other's cheeks. "I wouldn't say that."

"But, ah, you are, Matthieu!" He moved his head down to run his lips over the Canadian's clothed ribs.

"Fr-Francis." He shuddered. "I-mmmm...don't!"

By now, wandering hands had reached many areas.

"What's wrong? The children aren't around…" He grinned rather devilishly. "They won't know if Daddy and Papa have some _fun _while they play."

"But they're just outside the door! They could walk at any minute!" Squeaking had replaced his normal pattern of speech, but he suddenly grew stern in a motherly sort of way. "Francis, I can't believe you're suggesting such a thing! And we _don't_ need any more little Bonnefoys, eh?"

"Oh, just let me touch you." He begged, his voice smooth and calm.

Canada resumed squeaking.

"Papa, what are you doing to Daddy? It looks like you're hurting him!" Jovianne readjusted her glasses and peered into the house. "He's making a lot of noise and you're on top of him! Don't hurt him!" She rushed over in a childish toddle and attempted to shove her father off her mother.

The disappointed France received the glare of death from the previous victim of his molesting and ceased abruptly. "_Non, mon princesse_. We were playing, but we're done."

"What a weird way to play!" She exclaimed. "I wouldn't want to play like that."

"You'd better not." Canada mumbled as the girl pulled herself up to sit on his lap.

Like some strange law of nature; where one of their children went, the others seemed to follow. They went about like a pack of ducklings, chattering and chasing one another. Once Jovianne was in the house, her brothers came in almost immediately.

"Papa!" Jacques charged in like a little hurricane and tackled his father. France pretended to fall back from the mere strength of his young son. "When's supper?"

"Why, are my little ones hungry?"

He was met with eager nods from his children.

"Well, I suppose I'm making supper." He laughed and started to make his way to the kitchen.

The Canadian joined him, carrying their daughter in one arm and youngest son in the other. He quickly set them down, the weight much too much for him. While he was kneeling, he caught the clear blue gaze of the Frenchman.

"_Later, Matthieu." _He mouthed.

* * *

_So! There you go! If you liked it (or you have something to say,) there's a nice box that collects much-appreciated reviews. I do apologize for the infrequent and low quality updates, but life is REALLY busy._

_I have an idea for a US/UK Halloween chapter. I hope to get it posted by All Hallows Eve, folks~_

_-Lissa_


	10. Austria and Hungary Part II

_She's baaaaaaaaaack! LOL! Didn't think I'd get to update for a while! But I stole my younger brother's computer :) This will probably be the last update for at least two weeks, though. And I apologize that it's short. And plotless. This was going to be an interaction between Germany and Italy's daughter and Austria and Hungary's son, but somehow...this is all that formulated._

_-Lissa_

_

* * *

_

"Is-is he alright?" The Austrian asked nervously.

She nodded, shifting the position of the toddler in her arms. "Poor baby's just got a fever."

The boy coughed quietly, letting out a soft moan of discomfort. "Mama." He said weakly.

"My darling little boy." Elizaveta sighed while wrapping a blanket tighter around him.

"So, he _is_ alright."

She nodded once again, almost laughing this time. "You've asked that five or six times."

"I know. I'm just...worried."

"Understandable." She resumed cooing over her son.

Austria hovered awkwardly, feeling quite useless. This whole deal of parenting seemed to come so naturally to her; he was almost jealous. No matter how very hard he tried to be less uneasy and self-doubting when it came to his son, he couldn't change his cool -almost cold- and stoic personality.

Oh! How he wished to. He'd adored the child he'd never known he'd wanted from the moment the boy had peered up at him with innocent eyes. It had been instant love when his slender musician's fingers were gripped by the chubby ones of his dear Frederic. But...he'd always been distant. Still confused and frightened with the idea of being a father.

He felt quite foolish. He already _was_ a father. It was something he knew he wouldn't trade for the world. It was almost as the though the paternal instinct had never fully kicked in.

Almost as though he wasn't...meant for this.

He shook off his thoughts and returned to the present.

"He's asleep." Hungary whispered lovingly, stroking his dark hair.

The other nation murmured in agreement.

"Here." She gathered all the stray blankets off her lap and moved the boy toward him.

He blinked questioningly, but took the child into his arms. "My, he's getting so big."

She grinned. "I know. Remember when he could almost fit across your hands?"

"Of course. He was quite small, wasn't he?"

"Yes." She moved closer, now speaking softly to their son. "But you were so beautiful. You still are." Elizaveta beamed when the boy cuddled sleepily into his father's shoulder. The affection bursting from her was tangible.

He too felt a stirring sense of pride and happiness. Perhaps he was meant for this. Perhaps...she would always be the melody when it came to their parenting.

But he had the honor of being the harmony.

He felt utterly completed.

"Let's put him in bed." She stood and began to lead him into their child's room. "I have something I want to tell you."

"Oh?"

"Just hold on a minute."

After Frederic was safe in bed and received a kiss from both mother and father, Hungary began to close the door. "You may want to sit down, Roderich."

"...Why? What's wrong?"

"Sit." She commanded. After he did so she took in a long breath and began to smile dreamily. "You may not believe it, because it's so wonderful!"

"..." He was rather puzzled, almost worried with the way she seemed to be getting more and more excited.

"Roderich! I'm pregnant again!"

"Wha..."

Well...She certainly hoped he wouldn't stay unconscious for too long.

* * *

_WOW~ That turned out worse than I was hoping D: BUT! Reviews are much appreciated :)_

_I've decided to start putting disclaimers on my stories, simply because I've heard of people getting in trouble for not doing so (even though it's called FANfiction)_

_So. I don't own Hetalia. But I'm a duchess of Sealand :)_

_(Does it seem like most of these are ending with the child sleeping/sick/injured?)_


	11. America and England Part II

"Mum, when do we get to see Daddy again?"

England sighed as he started the car. "I told you, love. We're picking him up at the airport in a little while. Then we're all going back to the States in a couple of weeks." Once they were down the driveway, he added softly: "I always miss London."

The girl nodded thoughtfully while looking out at the rainy setting. "What do we have to do today? Like, before we pick up Daddy?"

"See the city, I suppose. I need to get shopping done while we're at it."

"But I've seen London a MILLION times!"

He rolled his eyes. _God, does she sound like America when she whines..._ "It's only for a couple of hours, Lucy."

She leaned back as far as possible and mumbled swears under her breath.

"What was that?! Young lady, I don't know when you got the impression you could use that language, but you cannot!"

"_You_ talk like that all the time!" There was an arrogant finality to her tone.

"Well...you're not allowed!"

"Why not?!"

"Because...I said so!"

"That's a stupid reason!"

England was near violently banging his head on the dashboard in a display of frustration. "You know what, I'm not going to talk to you until you gain some more respect for me."

"What?" She suddenly stiffened.

Oh. _Now_ he had her.

"No, I won't talk to you until you apologize. I'll simply pretend to not have heard you."

"Mum, you can't do that~"

"Oh, was that a gust of wind? Hmm, I know it wasn't my disrespectful daughter."

"MUM!"

He continued to drive, seemingly not noticing her. He successfully ignored her the rest of the mile to the grocery store, although...it wasn't quite easy. She'd taken to cursing and insulting him to gain his attention, but he grit his teeth and contained himself.

"Stop ignoring me!" She pouted once they pulled into the parking lot. Lucy slid out of her seat as quickly as possible, practically throwing open the door. "Mummy, stop!"

England smirked, clasping her hand in his as they walked. "I'm sure if there was somebody trying to talk to me, all they would have to do is be polite and I'd answer. Perhaps it might even do them well to apologize for previous rudeness."

The young girl was going mad. She clung to her parent, shook him and tugged on his shirt in vain. Finally, (after much dramatics) she let out an exasperated sigh and some murmured words. "I guess...I'm sorry."

"I'm afraid I didn't hear you very well."

"I'M SORRY!" She shouted, effectively drawing every pair of eyes in the produce section to her. "Will you just talk to me?" The second phrase was spoken softly, almost pitifully. As if her tone wasn't enough, she wrapped her arms around him as best she could and hugged him sweetly.

He couldn't help but kneel and pick the child up. "Oh Lucy, what am I ever to do with you?"

She shrugged, clinging tighter to her mother.

He started to smooth down her gold hair as his cell rang. "Hello, this is Arthur Kirkland, may I ask who is calling?"

"Iggy! I've got some awesome news! My plane was early! I'm already back in the land of tea and 'God Save the Queen!'"America pulled off his best British accent. (Which was terrible, as you might have guessed.)

"Wonderful." His partner sighed. "I'm assuming you want to be picked up, then?"

"Um. Duh."

He rolled his eyes in a manner much like earlier. "Fine, you git. I'll be there in a minute."

"Git? Are you talking to Daddy?"

He nodded.

"I want to talk to him!" She reached for the phone and began to jabber away happily. It was surprising she found time to breathe.

"Alright, why don't you hang up and come get me, kiddo." America's clear laughter was audible from several feet away.

After a few words of goodbye, she obeyed. "Let's go get Daddy! He's at the airport waiting for us!"

"Calm down. Calm down." England chuckled. "You'll see him soon enough."

For some reason, the thought of his little family reunited made him just as pleased as the excited child.

(However...there were traces of a beginning headache at said thought as well.)

* * *

_Yays! I can give you guys regular updates again. Still don't have my computer back :/ But I have access to one!_

_I sense some Poland/Lithuania coming up soon. Or some Denmark/Norway. Any characters I haven't paired yet that you want to see? _

_I don't own Hetalia. I wish._

_-Lissa_

_PS: Reviewers get love. And tomatoes :)_


	12. Prussia and Ukraine

Who would have thought that of every person on the planet, the sister of the Russian psycho would be the mother of his awesome babies? Certainly not Gilbert. No; never in his wildest dreams did he imagine settling down (or whatever it was for him) with Ukraine. Okay, so his wildest dreams never even really involved settling down. Much less with her. Point made.

Katya wasn't psycho. Not even close. She was a soft, loving parent with an obvious adoration for her dear children. The only problem was she was turning Prussia's only son and daughter into a pair of freaking _mice_. Too timid to stand up to a fly. This was a fact that was very _not_ awesome. Sure, he cared a whole damn lot for the innocent-faced blonds. Why wouldn't he? But sometimes…he found the task of parenting to be quite boring.

Prussia mused on all these things as the two children climbed into his lap. "Oi, what do you think you're doing?" He said softly.

"Mama said we're all reading a story." Nichlaus stared up at him like this was obvious. "It's your turn to pick."

Oh boy. Story time. It was an activity Gilbert often found tedious. "I get to pick?"

The pair nodded.

He sighed as Katya joined him on the couch with their children. He didn't have the slightest clue what type of thing they'd want to hear, so he picked up the nearest book of fairytales and flipped to a page. "How's Hansel and Gretel sound?"

"We haven't heard that one, Vati." Heidi smiled shyly. "What's it about?"

"Uh, I can't remember. But I used to read it to your Uncle West all the time. " He shrugged, preparing to speak. " 'There were once two children called Hansel and Gretel whose mother had died when they were very small.'"

Ukraine looked as horrified as her children. "Their mother…died?"

He sighed. "Oh, my mistake. It says 'There were once two children called Hansel and Gretel whose mother _hadn't_ died when they were very small."

She nodded, seeming to deem this more appropriate for her darling syn anddon'ka.

"'One bitter winter evening, when they were in bed, Hansel and Gretel overheard their stepmoth-' -um- 'mother say to their father, "If we don't get rid of the children, we'll _all_ starve to death."

Heidi gasped in horror, starting to cry a bit. "Their mother wanted to abandon them?!"

"Nein, leibling!" He rushed to wipe away her tears. Prussia looked to Ukraine for help; only to find that she had started to cry herself. His son let out a wail, forcing him to once again edit the story. "'One bitter evening, when they were in bed, Hansel and Gretel overheard their mother say to their father, "I love my children so much!"

Everyone calmed.

"'The next day, the whole family went for a walk. Hansel laid pebbles on the ground in case they got lost. At noon, the parents lit a fire and promised to return, but they never did.'"

"So they got lost too?" Nichlaus went right back to wailing. "I don't like this story! Too many bad things happen!"

"Yes, Gilbert. Perhaps we shouldn't read this one."

He lost it. "Oh! So everything has to nice and perfect all the time because it might upset them? Have you ever realized that maybe real life isn't always completely happy, Katya?" The sarcasm dripped from his voice.

Surprisingly, she didn't even whimper in response. "Gilbert, can I talk to you?" She lifted the astonished children off his lap and waved them away.

"Sure." He huffed.

Once Heidi and Nichlaus were out of earshot, she whispered, "They embarrass you, don't they?"

"No! It's just that…you're always so…"

"Protective?"

He leaned back, staring at the ceiling as though it might hold the answer to all his current troubles. "We can't shield them from everything, no matter how hard we try. Personally, I figured they might as well be exposed to evil stepmothers because someday they're going to have to face something worse."

"That isn't what this about. You wish they were more like you."

"What?"

"You've always been hoping they'd become more mischievous. Especially Nichlaus- you're always so hard on him. Always telling him not to cry, to be a man."

"I never said that." He rolled his eyes. "I told him Prussian men don't cry; they kick ass."

"Gilbert." She suddenly started to cry a little. "I only want to be a perfect mother. I made so many mistakes when I was taking care of Ivan and Natalya…just look at what happened to them. I love them dearly, don't get me wrong. It's just…I could have done better. I _want_ to do better for our children."

"They're aren't going to get screwed up over a children's story. They're too awesome for that. I mean, c'mon. Let's face it; your brother and sister were beyond help from the get-go."

Katya bit her lip. "Please don't say that."

"I didn't mean to offend you, Leibe." He brushed the short hair from her face and planted a light kiss on her forehead. "I was just saying that it wasn't your fault. But hey. How about a deal?"

"Hmm?"

"I'll read them a happier story and be a little less harsh, and I get to take them out on a crime spree every now and again." He smirked against her hair, pulling her into an embrace.

"Something a little less than crime, at least." She stuttered.

"Fine. I get to teach them the proper art of bothering an Austrian."

Ukraine smiled a little bit, almost giggling. "As long as they don't get hurt."

"Okay, deal. But I don't guarantee the Austrian won't get hurt."

"So, what will you read them now?"

"Dunno, Snow White, maybe? I remember reading that one to West too."

"Doesn't the girl die in that?" She put a hand to her mouth to suppress a little gasp.

"Don't worry." He kissed her once again, but this time full on the lips. "Vati knows what he's doing." He sat up and shouted. "Heidi! Nichlaus! Come back here. I'm going to read another story!"

There was no reply.

"Gilbert, what happened!?" Katya led him from the couch, in tears once again. "My babies! Where are they?" She quickly went frantic, rushing into every nearby room while calling their childrens' names.

"We're in here, Mama." Heidi said in her tiny little voice.

The pair followed the sound to the kitchen. Their children were sitting on the floor, dumping a white powder into a sugar shaker.

"I think there's enough sugar in that, moja."

"But it's not sugar, Mama." Nichlaus grinned.

"Then what is it?" She blinked confusedly.

"Salt!" They exclaimed in unison.

"We wanted to do something bad." Heidi looked to her father, pride apparent in her round face.

Their mother looked to them, ready to scold. She was, however, interrupted by a rather enthusiastic cheer.

"THERE'S HOPE!" Prussia picked up his son and daughter, practically hugging them to death.

Ukraine was about to ask him not to encourage them, but she let him have this moment of triumph.

There was a bit of mischievous hope for the Prussian youths.

* * *

_Translations:_

_Syn and Don'ka- Ukrainian for" son and daughter"._

_Nein, Leibling: German for "No, darling."_

_Moja: Ukranian for "my baby"

* * *

_

…_Wow. It's been that long since an update? -Is sorry- D: I haven't had regular access to a computer in so long~ But I have my computer back (well, it's technically a different one, because my old one was apparently fried beyond repair…way to go me!... but I got a new one 8D) so I now present you with an update! Consider it an early Christmas present. (Or whatever holiday you celebrate)_

_Yeah. About the pairing. I have NO idea where this came from. Everyone I pair Gil with was already taken…so Ukraine showed up in my head. Now I ship this couple HARD!!!~ XD_

_Also, this chapter is dedicated to __**KagomeGirl92. **__She drew a lovely fanart of Damita and Fiorella __ http:// .com/ art/ Cousins-on-the-Flowerfield- 145046411_

_An adorable one of Luke http:// .com/ art/ Shichi-Go-San- 145699145_

_And then a really cute (shotaconish *cough cough*) one of Eric and the son of Denmark of Norway (who I still need to add to the story) http:// .com/ art/ A-Flower-for-You- 145879030_

_(Take out the spaces)_

_I'm very thankful to her ^.^_

_Anyways, sorry for the update gap!_

_-Lissa_

_(PS: I don't own Hetalia. But I put it on my list to Santa :P I also asked for some reviews. I hope I get them~)_


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